


Good Steak

by AdamantSteve



Series: WIP Amnesty/FicDump [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hooker AU, M/M, hooker!Tony, virgin!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's a hooker, Steve's a virgin... you do the math</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Steak

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: **this story is unfinished and unbetaed**. It was originally intended that they would fall in love whilst Tony and Steve had sex a bunch more times, but here we are. Another one from the trash folder.
> 
> For the prompt: _Tony is a genius, but not a billionaire, playboy, or philanthropist. Instead, he's got a shitty apartment in NYC and works as a hustler to make ends meet._
> 
> _Then he gets hired by Steve: he's still Captain America and still recently unfrozen, earning a ton of money from his reemergence and fame. He hires Tony because he's unsure of his own sexuality and afraid of the press finding out (especially before he does). He's never slept with a man before.  
> _

 

 

It's 1.30 by the time Tony flicks on the coffee machine and shuffles into the hallway to retrieve his mail, mostly junk and flyers but an angry looking bill or two tucked between them which Tony tries not to think about. He shuffles back and checks his phone for any messages, happy to see a few from previous clients and one from someone new. The smell of the coffee's bitter warmth begins to seep into him and he's almost awake by the time he sits back on the bed and flips open his planner. There’s nothing much arranged for the next few days, so the returning customers are more than welcome. 

 

The new one is intriguing, asking for a ‘discreet meeting’ in one of the plusher hotels in the old part of town. The intriguing part is 'meeting'. If he'd not used the word 'discreet' Tony would discount it as merely a man avoiding being found out by a wife or lover, sending a text to someone easily covered up as a business associate. Usually unless clients were trying to cover up what they were after tended to state exactly what they wanted and how they wanted to do it. That this guy - Steve, he said his name was - wants a _meeting_ either means he's after something kinky and wants to negotiate it beforehand or has some other proposition for him. Either way it piques Tony's interest and he wants to know more. Of course, it could mean nothing, since half the time the messages he receives are along the lines of "cum 2 my aprtment 2nite 4 watersports" and those are the kind of invites he'll usually decline. But he needs the money so much at the moment that he's almost regretting the last few turn-downs he's made. Watersport guys are usually good for repeat business. 

 

He shoots off a reply to ‘Steve’ asking for more information before he agrees to anything and pencils in the other clients, sending them enthusiastic messages to confirm. He thinks about texting some of the ones he's politely declined in the past. 

 

It's not such a bad life, all told. Tony likes sex, and he's good at it. It's a flexible job that he can work around his real vocation: engineering and inventing. It never makes a lot of money but he knows he'll hit on something soon enough that will make him millions. Or at least enough to pay his bills and maybe rent a bigger place. He flicks through his notebook to get back to the calculations he’d been going over before he’d left last night and his phone chimes.

 

_I'd really like to talk in person beforehand if possible. I can pay you up-front for your time. Or we could talk on the 'phone. You have my number._

 

Tony ponders whether the apostrophe before _phone_ was an accident or intentional. Perhaps this guy is just a real stickler for correct punctuation. Or really old. The offer of a call is reassurance enough for Tony, and since his fridge only contains a jar of mayonnaise and some furry olives, figures he might at least try to get a free meal out of this.

 

_I'm free til 5 today, meet you for lunch?_

 

_Alright. I'll meet you in the hotel restaurant at 1600. The reservation will be under the name Steve._

 

_See you then._

 

Sixteen hundred hours, Tony thinks to himself as he showers and dresses. He's been to this hotel a few times before and it's a fancy place, so he pulls on the suit a rather generous client gave him a while back and uses the dregs of his best cologne. Since he's making an effort he takes the time to polish his shoes a little before putting them on, imagining this guy as some old military man from the scrappy clues he's piecing together like a crossword puzzle. 

 

-

 

He gets off the subway and straightens his tie in the reflection of one of the designer stores that populate the area, fiddling with his hair for a moment and texting Rhodey. It's their usual arrangement: if Tony doesn't call him in an hour's time, he's to come looking. 

 

The restaurant is beautiful, and has that air of quiet luxury that only the most plush and expensive places seem to possess. It's a little unnerving after the rushing loudness of the subway but Tony straightens his shoulders and assumes the 'fuck you, I'm _awesome_ ' persona that he's so very excellent at donning before being led by a pristine-looking waiter to an empty table that's tucked away at the far end of the restaurant. Perhaps Steve requested it. It’s either that or the waiter has cottoned on to Tony’s profession somehow.

 

The lunch rush is mostly over and the dinner one has yet to begin, so the place is almost empty. Tony looks out of the huge window - the restaurant is on the top floor of the place and makes good use of that fact - and idly picks at the edge of his linen napkin. 

 

"Tony?" A hesitant voice says behind him, making Tony blink back to himself and turn, watch as the man slides into the seat opposite him. He's not anything like what Tony had been playing with in his mind. He was hot, for one thing, definitely military from the way he carries himself, so that had been right. He’s not old, either, probably younger than Tony. It all makes Tony's heart sink a little bit, since someone hot and young getting an escort, and then wanting to _talk_ beforehand, almost definitely means he’s into something really fucking weird. Then again, perhaps he’s just skittish about being with a man, though that seems like a simple enough problem to get around. Drop this guy in any gay bar and they’d eat him alive.

 

"You must be Ste-" Tony cuts himself off when he suddenly places him. "Oh my god, you're Steve _Rogers_." The man - Steve fucking _Rogers_ , frozen super soldier and apple-pie come to life - looks down in embarrassment and pulls his own napkin onto his lap where he proceeds to pick at it just as Tony had been with his. It's been what, a year? Since he'd been unearthed and raved about in newspapers before gracing the front of the gossip rags in the grocery store a few months later, and god knows what else, since Tony doesn’t have a TV and doesn’t buy the magazines or newspapers anyway. 

 

"Th-that's right. And, I'd really appreciate if you could be... uh... discreet?" Steve asks, looking up at Tony with ridiculously blue-blue eyes and the expression of a greeting card puppydog. He must be into some seriously kinky shit, Tony thinks to himself as he promises he'll be completely discreet even as he starts wondering how much those magazines pay for exclusive stories. 

 

They don't get into any kind of discussion since the waiter approaches with menus and lists off things that Tony doesn't listen to, skimming an eye over the menu and picking out the second most expensive item and asking for a glass of a wine that's halfway down the list, all bored, bored, bored like this is something he does every day. The waiter jots it all down and then they both wait, looking at Steve, who pushes his lips to one side and hems and haws over what to get, making Tony feel like he invited Steve here rather than the other way round. Eventually Steve shakes his head like he's starting over and asks for a steak, medium rare, with some french fries and a coke.

 

The waiter leaves and Tony inhales before attempting to get down to brass tacks and find out just what it is that is so freaky that America's hero can't find a pretty intern to do, but before he manages to start talking, Steve points to something out of the window and starts talking about how it used to be a coat store, so Tony makes interested sounds and plays along with the small talk. He determines to wait til Steve's eaten to push at it, unless he brings it up himself, and it's not _awful_ listening to him talk. 

 

Tony can practically see the tension bleeding out of Steve when he smiles at him and asks things politely. It's almost like one of the dates some clients insist on having before sex, as if Tony isn’t a sure thing. When the food arrives and Steve asks how his lobster ravioli is, Tony lies and says it's amazing even though he actually kind of hates pasta and had only really been paying attention to the prices. The wine is nice though, and as that takes the edge off, it seems to take the edge off of Steve, too, even though he's just drinking coke. Tony is easier with his smiles and honestly feels like he's warming to the guy, insane fetishes or not. It's always nice when they're handsome and not an overt douchebag, even if 90% of guys were different people in the bedroom, especially when they wanted their money's worth. 

 

"So, tell me, Steve," Tony starts, once Steve is drinking another coke and he's nursing a really _great_ espresso, and Steve's had the exorbitant bill charged to his room. The impending questioning is already making Steve's shoulders tense, making it clear just how much he’d relaxed over the course of the meal. Tony ignores it and presses on, because after all, it is his job. "You're rich, handsome and I have to assume from everything I've heard about the super serum, in perfect working order." He’s trying to be cute but Steve is staring at his glass as he stirs the straw, making the ice clink. He shrugs in embarrassed acknowledgement and Tony tries to be gentle. "What do you need me for?" 

 

Steve looks up at that and a shade of something flickers over his face, and Tony just meets his gaze and ignores the trace of pity in it, smiling. Steve looks away again, back out of the window, clearly working up to something but unable to say it. 

"What is it, Steve? Is it scat? Watersports? Are you into bukkake? I know a couple of guys, I can give em a call." 

Steve looks at him, both shocked and confused. "I, uh.. I don't even know what those things are!" He whispers hoarsely, scandalised even though he’s not sure what he's scandalised at. 

"Bondage, then? Want me to tie you up? Want to tie _me_ up? I don't normally do that straight off the bat with new guys but we can figure something out." 

"No!" Steve returns, even more scandalised since he actually understands that. 

Tony grins his most charming smile, tilts his head in apology. He lays a hand on the table between them, palm down like he's laying everything out. "Steve, I'm not going to judge you. The worst I would do is refuse what you ask me to do, but I can't do anything til you tell me what it is. I'm happy to have had lunch with you and we can do it again some time if you want, but I know that's not why you contacted me. This is literally my job, and I try to keep my customers happy." 

 

Steve licks his lips and inhales, looking away again before saying in the smallest voice, "I've never. I've never done it. Before." He risks a glance at Tony, who's eyebrows creep higher and higher. "With a guy?" Tony asks, and Steve shakes his head and looks ridiculously sweet. "With anyone?" Tony can't help but be surprised at that. It's one thing for him to never have been with a man before, especially if he's from the 1920's, but no one? 

 

It flips the whole situation on it's head. "And here I was thinking you must be some depraved pervert." Tony laughs, and can't help but keep laughing even after Steve's puppydog eyes come out again. Tony stops. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. So... You want me to show you the ropes. So to speak." Steve nods and looks apologetic. Tony quirks his mouth at him. "Steve Rogers, it would be my pleasure to introduce you to the wonderful world of sex." 

Steve looks debauched already, all blushy and wet lipped and chasing a nervous smile off his face. Relief. "Yeah?" He asks, as if Tony had granted him a reprieve from death row. "I'll teach you everything I know." Tony promises. 

 

-

 

Tony has an appointment in a couple of hours so Steve awkwardly pays him and they arrange to meet there the following evening. He tells Steve that he has a dentist appointment. It depends on the client: some like thinking of Tony as some desperate whore, having sex all day with anyone who'll pay, whereas others like imagining Tony just sitting around looking pretty, waiting for them to call on him. He figures Steve for the latter. He'd feel bad about taking his money and having a free lunch without really doing anything, but he'd given up feeling bad about taking anyone's money long ago.

 

He calls Rhodey on the way home to tell him he's fine and more importantly that the client is Captain America, and Rhodey doesn't believe him but promises to keep it a secret regardless. 

 

The next day, Tony wears the same suit - his only suit - but a different shirt and his other tie and packs a bag of everything he thinks he could need: lube, condoms, a vibrator just because, some wet wipes. He throws in some hair gel and a comb since he has the space, then a spare tshirt and the almost empty cologne bottle, incase he has a shower after whatever they end up doing. 

 

He knocks on the hotel room door and it opens immediately to reveal Steve in a different but equally tight shirt to the one from the day before. Before he can say anything, Tony moves into his space and kisses him - a useful move he employs sometimes on nervous johns who’d never get started otherwise. Steve makes a little sound of surprise but puts his arms around Tony and pulls him into the room so that the door swings shut. "Tony!" Steve eventually gasps, hands either side of Tony's shoulders and holding him there, and proving he's every bit as strong as Tony had imagined he might be. Tony smirks at him but Steve's looking serious. "No one can know about this," he reprimands. "No one." He steps around Tony and pushes the deadbolt across and twists the lock. “I can’t... No one can know, alright?” Tony nods and steps away, figures it’ll be a long night.

 

Tony puts his bag down and takes in the room. It's beginning to grow dark outside and the room is lit with just the light coming from the bathroom and one of the bedside lamps. It's a junior suite and he wonders if Steve booked it especially for this. The kiss had the opposite effect of what Tony had been hoping for, and Steve's looking more awkward than ever. He paces over to the minibar and asks if Tony wants anything. "Sure, whatever whiskey they have and some ice, if you have it." Steve does have ice, must have been sitting around in here for a while before Tony had arrived, now Tony comes to think of it. Steve pours him a drink and then hovers as Tony saunters to the window and looks out at the darkening city, the lights of office buildings glowing in the gloom. 

 

Tony swigs the whiskey, because it's free whiskey and he'll clean out that bar if he gets the chance, and turns, pinning Steve with his best look. "Steve, relax. Come here," Tony turns back to the window and Steve stands next to him. Tony points, "that building there, with the things on the roof. Was that there when you were around?" Steve breathes, "Ah, no. I don't know when that was built. But that one was. That one there," he points, "I remember it being built, actually." Tony smiles to himself, at how Steve is so pent up but starting to relax just a little at the distraction. 

 

He keeps talking and Tony keeps prompting him, drinking til all that's left in his glass is ice water that tastes a little like whiskey and puts the glass down on the windowsill, moving to stand closer to Steve and place a hand on one of his hips, facing him and keeping him there. Steve stops talking but Tony doesn't look up, just tells him to keep going as he pulls Steve's shirt gently, slowly out of his belted pants. Steve's breath hitches when he runs a finger across his stomach and wraps his arms around him, pressing to one side of him and pushing a thumb gently under the hem of his shirt. Steve's skin is smooth and warm, and his voice keeps going, babbling about building codes and how they've probably changed now, while Tony rubs little circles into the flesh on Steve's side, bringing out goosebumps with just his thumb. 

 

"The places I grew up are mostly torn down now, they were pretty much - oh!" Steve gasps quietly when Tony slides his hand up beneath his shirt and brushes over a nipple before squeezing one of his huge pectoral muscles. Tony moves in front of him and pushes the shirt up more so he can see, so he can get this guy naked. "Pretty much what, Steve?" Tony murmurs, letting himself linger over those pecs that are everything the magazines made him out to be and moving forward to lick a stripe up between them. Steve sighs and swallows, throat clicking from how dry it is. "I.. what?"

 

Tony can feel the hard length of Steve's erection against him where they're pressed against each other. "What do you want, Steve?" Tony asks, kissing Steve's chest with his hands placed on either hip, still rubbing circles on his mannequin-flawless skin. Steve swallows again, and Tony hides a tiny smirk at how easily he's coming apart for him by kissing him again and brushing a nipple with the tip of his nose. 

 

"I want... I want to kiss you?" He breathes, and Tony tilts his head up, waits for Steve to dip his head to meet him halfway, and he does it, and it feels like a tiny victory. Steve's kiss is sweet and innocent, but Tony's prodding soon coaxes out his tongue and Tony wonders if it's Steve's first kiss, too. But it's too good for that, because he's sucking and twisting his tongue and it's really rather good, if a little sloppy. Steve's erection jerks of it's own accord when Tony sucks on Steve's tongue, and huge hands wrap around Tony's waist, mirroring his own. Steve sucks on his tongue in return and there's a reason hookers aren't meant to kiss, thinks Tony, bucking his hips to rub himself stiff against him and pleased to see Steve mirror that, too.

 

A theory pushes it's way into Tony's mind and he puts it to the test, moving his hands around to cup Steve's ass and kneading the delicious curves of it, not letting the contact of their mouths break. Steve answers likewise, proving Tony's theory that he needed to take permission from Tony doing it first to go ahead and explore. Steve's hands gingerly cup Tony's ass and he moans deep in his chest. 

 

Tony breaks away from the kiss and feels Steve start to tense, like he's done something wrong, but Tony kisses him lightly again before searching out his eyes, flecked with lights from the city and wide, so wide. It was part of the job, and it was why Tony was good at it, but it was one thing for your average john to be turned on, it was quite another when someone as perfect as Steve was being so turned on by you. "Do you want me to take my shirt off, Steve?" Tony asks, waits for Steve's frantic nodding before he steps away, Steve's hands falling uselessly at his sides as Tony unbuttons the shirt and lets it fall open, working at the cuffs as he nods to Steve, "take off yours, let me see your body,” and the sound that comes out of Steve makes Tony wonder if he even has any idea how beautiful he is. It’s like he’s surprised that Tony gives a shit. It’s a sound unattractive guys make when Tony acts like he’s turned on by them, only he’s not acting quite so hard as he usually would. 

 

Tony gets his own shirt off and drapes it across the desk next to them, figuring in the back of his mind it'll save on cleaning if he can keep it neat tonight. "Mmm, I just wanna lick you all over, Steve" he growls once he's out of his shirt. He rounds on him, places his hands against that perfect torso again and pushes him gently but with will towards the bed, and Steve pliantly goes, sitting and then laying as Tony straddles him in the gloom. "Is this good?" Tony asks, rocking his hips so they brush down against the still solid erection there and making Steve whine in the back of his throat. He nods and keeps making little noises as Tony rocks, grinds onto Steve. He rests his hands on Steve's pecs and squeezes, keeps one there as he slides the other up to Steve's neck, wraps it around the back of his head and leans down to kiss him some more. 

 

Steve's thrusting a little himself now, searching for friction, and Tony kisses down to his neck, licking and kissing the perfect skin there so Steve doesn't have to look at him when Tony murmurs into his skin, "can I touch you?" ghosting a hand gently over his tented pants between them. "Uh huh," Steve chokes out, so Tony slips off to one side of him and reaches down with a sure hand to pop the button and slide the zipper down. He steps off the bed to pull them and the quaintly old-fashioned underpants down and all the way off his legs, so that Steve Rogers is totally naked and flushed, waiting for Tony to do whatever the hell he wants to him. "You got a beautiful cock, Steve. It's perfect." He pulls his own pants off, steps out of his shoes, watching Steve's face all the while. "Thanks." Steve eventually replies, awkward and fearful. 

 

"Scoot up the bed." Tony says, and Steve does it instantly, like he's under a spell and would do anything in his power to give Tony whatever he wants. Tony kneels on the bed and runs a finger up Steve's thigh, leaning down to kiss his chest and his stomach again as he ever so gently brushes the tips of his fingers over Steve's cock. Steve's gasping and losing it even from such tiny touches, he's in such a state, and Tony doesn't try to hide his smile this time, looking up to see Steve's looking at him in the gloom. "Does it feel good, Steve?" Tony asks, barely touching the skin of his balls before they hitch up away from him. "Yeah. Yes." Steve's nodding fervently, "Please-" He stops himself, but Tony's there, "What is it? Tell me," he pleads with Steve, as if this is a favour from Steve to Tony rather than the other way round, moves down so his face is next to Steve's dick, not close enough to touch, but almost. "You want me to lick you? Lick you all over? Suck your perfect beautiful cock?" 

 

The moans and pleading sounds are answer enough, and Tony moves between Steve's legs so he can lick with a flat tongue from the base of his cock to the tip before gripping it and directing the head to his mouth and then drawing it in, pulling back and forth and sucking on the tip. 

 

Steve's fingers scrabble in the bedding, Tony can hear them, can hear his toes flexing he's so close, and he pulls off with a wet noise even if he does keep stroking with his hand. He looks up at Steve as he points his tongue and worries at the spot where Steve’s foreskin's pulled back, making a show of the whole thing, til Steve's all aquiver again and this time he doesn't stop, watches Steve's face contort in the half-light as his body shivers into stillness and he comes all over Tony's face and hand. 

 

Tony pulls away and presses his lips tightly together so the cum doesn’t get in his mouth. He wipes some off of his face by licking at Steve's balls some more, up the crease between leg and dick, prolonging the pleasure for Steve as long as he can until he's spent and gasping, his cock jerking lazily and untended while Tony steps off and roots for the baby wipes, wiping his face and hand and then any drops left on Steve. He’ll need a shower, but for now it’s enough. 

 

-

 

Tony ignores the erection he’s sporting and climbs up next to Steve, the bed wide enough that even though he’s half-dead in the middle of it and spreadeagled, there’s space still for Tony to lie next to him and brush his fingers over the sweat-damp skin of Steve’s chest. He’s not been paid yet, so has to stick around for a while, but he has nowhere else to be tonight and there’s worse places than a nice hotel room. Steve’s staring at the ceiling like he’s in shock and Tony lays and looks at him, waits for his breathing to slow back down before he works on aftersales. If it was anyone else he’d be halfway through another whiskey and ice but figures this could be a good gig if he plays his cards right.

 

Steve’s still zoned out and whimpers a little when Tony kisses him all tenderly on the cheek. “Are you alright?” He asks softly, and it still takes Steve a moment to talk. “That was... thank you.” 

Tony laughs under his breath, a quick burst of indifference. “You’re welcome... Say, you’ve got me all night. And you’re technically still a virgin.” Tony’s heard the rumours, wants to know if it’s true that Steve can get it up and come ten times in a night, even though he’s quickly realising those rumours couldn’t have any basis in truth if he’s the first one to get to see this. Steve’s kind of beautiful - handsome always, he’s Captain America afterall - but with his shoulders relaxed and his eyes glazed and swimmy, cheeks a little flushed but in the good way, not from embarrassment but from sex, he’s beautiful. Like this he looks perfect. Debauched but perfect. 

 

If it was any other scenario, a one night stand, perhaps, something where the only currency exchanged would be flirtacious looks and then mutual sex, then Tony would be planning things out, trying to figure out how long to wait before calling so he seemed interested but not overly so. He’d be raving about it to Rhodey, Pepper, anyone who’d listen. He half wants to waive the fee and just do it all for free, if maybe he’d get to see this man undone without the feeling that he’s sullying him just by being a whore, like the very act of taking money made him dirty, a stain. 

 

But he is a whore, and he needs that money, and Steve needs him for this. So it’s just business. It’s all just business. 

 

Tony shakes those thoughts out of his head and stands up to go to the mini bar, pouring two tiny bottles of whiskey into a glass and some sloppy ice from the bucket. He goes back to the bed and lays there, presents himself like a nude painting, legs crossed at the ankle, body propped up on an elbow with a drink in the other hand. He preens when Steve looks at him and the way Steve’s eyes just drink him in makes him feel cheap and expensive all at once. 

 

“Ready to tell me what you want to do, now?” Tony asks, drinking deeply once he’s said it, because the alcohol’s there and it’s good. Steve looks away again but in thought this time rather than shame, and he’s not even covering himself with a sheet, Tony’s glad to see. Proof that he’s loosened him up that far. Usually he can tell if a john wants to fuck him or be fucked, but with Steve he still has no clue.

“Right now... I want to get something to eat. But then afterwards... can you teach me how to do that?” 

 

Tony’s blindsided by that, and Steve’s looking down and away, awkward again. “Sure. You wanna suck my cock, I’m down with that.” Steve slides his eyes back at him, “Yeah?” Like he’s being granted some sneaky favour that Tony might rescind at any moment. Tony licks his lips and grins, looks down at Steve’s potentially perfect dick sucking lips before darting in to kiss them in a fluid movement as he jumps up and walks to the bathroom, calling out behind him and echoing in the bathroom, “we’ll do whatever you want, baby.” 

 

This being a fancy-ass hotel, there’s two fluffy bathrobes hanging all neat and tidy on hangers in the bathroom, and he pulls one on before taking a piss with the door open. He washes his face and his hands and then strides back out with his robe open still, tosses one to Steve, still laying on the bed like Tony’s paralysed him. He roots through the desk drawer for the room service menu and starts flicking through it. Having learned his lesson before, he picks out some long-named sliders and fries, doesn’t push it and ask for champagne but silently hopes regardless. He finds his whiskey on the nightstand when he comes back to sit on the bed beside Steve and drinks deeply, the ice mostly melted now and the whisky tasting sweeter. 

 

“You want me to call?” Tony offers, but Steve snaps to and shifts himself, sitting up and facing away from Tony with his great big legs off the bed. His back goes on for days, and Tony’s reminded of the images he first had when he saw Steve for the first time, of Steve bearing over him all size and muscle, bending Tony to whatever he wanted. He can’t decide if it’s that or the fact that Steve’s the one seeming to bend to Tony’s will that makes him shiver a little. 

“Yeah, could you? Uh, can you get me a steak? Medium rare. And a coke and fries. And whatever you want.” 

 

Steve pulls on the robe and ties it, looking even wider in it somehow, and locks the bathroom door behind him. Tony calls and orders the food, adding a prawn cocktail just because he notices it. Tony’s figured out the hotel TV by the time Steve comes back, and he flicks through the channels before handing Steve the remote so he can lean up against him all boyfriend-like, and it does some kind of trick because Steve both seems to settle and become more awkward. Tony pulls Steve’s arm up and around him before lacing their fingers together and tracing the neat cuticles of his big fingers. The TV is left on the preview channel of the pay-per-view movies as Steve gets all breathy and Tony can’t help but feel proud of his workmanship. 

 

The food arrives and Steve jumps when the door is knocked. Tony lets them in and signs off a nice tip, turns to find Steve standing there with a cushion covering his crotch. Tony grins. “You wanna fool around first?” Steve doesn’t know what to say to that but Tony puts down the cloches and rounds on him, getting right up in his space before pulling the cushion away from Steve’s limp hands. 

 

He reaches out and presses a palm to the tented fabric of Steve’s robe. “I could suck you off while you eat?” It’s a crass suggestion, but it has the desired affect of making Steve laugh. “No, it’s fine. Uh... perhaps later?” He positively blushes at that and Tony grins. “You got it big guy.”

 

They eat, Steve as delicate with the food as he seems to be with everything else, as though he’s scared he’ll accidentally break something if he isn’t painstakingly delicate in all his movements. Tony catches himself staring and shakes his head, because it’s silly to get attached to a john like this, to start thinking they’re anything other than a cash machine. Steve catches him looking and smiles warmly. “Good steak?” Tony covers. 

“Really good. Maybe it’s just because of...” he nods back towards the bed and Tony laughs. “But it tastes amazing.” Tony smiles and tries not to let it grow into a grin. Yeah, this guy is trouble. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
